


On The Edge

by bigblueboxat221b



Series: How Does Your Marriage Work? [19]
Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: Angst, Diane POV, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, In Gander, Post screech-in, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: After so many different stresses piled on top of each other, the plane with the flat tyre is the last straw for Diane.





	On The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

“I’m sure it won’t be long,” the flight attendant said, “in fact, we’re asking everyone to stay here for when we need to go again.”

It was her kind words that left Diane’s self-control dangling by a thread.

Days in Gander. Hours and hours in the airport. And now they were back in the shelter, a flat tyre preventing planes departing indefinitely. Diane wasn’t sure how much more she could take. When they’d first arrived, she wanted nothing more than to leave again, but now that she’d spent these days here, her priorities had changed so much it scared her. She didn’t feel like the same person that landed here less than a week ago.

It felt like a lifetime.

Fearing David was on one of the crashed planes, finding out he wasn’t, the uncertainty of what was happening in the rest of the world; the week had been filled with stressors. But balancing that was the kindness of every person Diane had met from here, their patience and generosity that meant she would leave with more good memories than bad. And beyond all that lay the single person who had brightened every moment of this experience.

Nick.

She glanced up at him, standing beside her.

“Let’s find a cuppa,” he murmured, gesturing to the door ahead.

Diane blinked, processing what he’d said, her mind still whirring. The chances of them having met were infinitesimally small. If their plane hadn’t been diverted it was likely they would never have crossed paths – in all the times he’d visited Dallas for work they’d never run into each other. Yet they had ended up on the same plane, and it had been diverted, and he had sought a spare seat to escape the drunk people on their plane and again on the bus…And out of that a friendship was born. A familiar face in the sea of people finding cots, and then someone to take walks with; and by the time the screech in rolled around, Diane knew she was interested in more than a friendship.

But he’d told her she kissed the fish, and she realised she hadn’t. Diane assumed he didn’t want to embarrass her by turning her down. Neither mentioned it again, but Diane was incredibly aware of Nick now, wondering what he really thought about that night.

She tried not to analyse him, but he did seem to seek her out often, sitting beside her on the bus, walking quietly in laps around the airport as they waited for their plane all day. Was it the courteous act of a friend, or something more? But if it was more, why did he lie about the fish at the screech in? That was the thought Diane couldn’t get out of her head, and she was desperate to talk to Nick about it before they went their separate ways.

Probably forever.

“A cuppa,” she repeated woodenly, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that was crawling over her shoulders. It was tight and prickly, exacerbating her uneasiness.

By the time they’d spent the day at the airport, with no opportunity for anything even approaching a private conversation, Diane’s nerves were stretched thin. The walking helped her nervous energy, and she knew she’d trailed off into silence for hours on end, barely meeting Nick’s eyes as she fought the urge to speak to him, audience be damned. She had no idea what Nick thought about her behaviour but he appeared confused and tentative, taking her cue and remaining quiet most of the time.

The bus on the way back to the shelter had been awful; people subdued at the very least, with many crying. Diane knew tears were sliding down her cheeks, but she couldn’t do anything about it; holding herself together was taking all her energy. Nick’s hand had settled over hers almost as soon as they sat down, and she tucked her thumb over his, not daring to make more contact lest her mouth blurt out what needed to be a private conversation. They exited the bus and when the flight attendant spoke, Diane’s mind was racing, wondering if she could convince Nick to accompany her on another walk for some small measure of privacy.

And now the flight attendant was saying to the people behind them, “We’re asking everyone to stay here for when we need to go again.”

The words were almost the last straw. There was nowhere here she and Nick could speak privately; seven hundred people was far more than a comfortable number for this elementary school, kind though their hosts had been. Every space was being utilised. They would have to wait for the plane, then.

“Oh, Lord,” Diane whispered. That thought pushed her over the edge. It was too much. She was vaguely aware of Nick turning to look at her, but without looking at him she dropped her bag and turned, walking quickly back past the flight attendant towards the road.

“Ma’am?”

The flight attendant’s voice was startled, but Diane paid it no mind, she needed to get out of there. It was too close, too many people. She needed some air, and some space, and some time to try and shore up her heart. It wouldn’t survive what now seemed inevitable – no time to speak to Nick, nothing but silence on the plane and polite goodbyes in Dallas before he left for London forever. And she would return home, forever changed by the preceding week.

“Diane?”

Walking quickly, tears falling steadily, Diane wasn’t really watching where she was going. Tears were blinding her and her breath was coming in gasps, making it difficult to breathe. It was late afternoon, the light just starting to fade, and she crossed the road without looking. It was so ingrained in her to look that even in her distraught state, her brain recognised the recklessness. She couldn’t keep walking, it wasn’t safe. There were trees ahead, a simply barrier between the houses and the road. The grass beneath was soft enough, and Diane sank down, leaning against the bark, her knees drawn to her chest.

Finally alone, she lowered her head to her knees and let it out. She sobbed and sobbed, the hurt and worry and pain flowing out of her. Regret at what might have been with Nick, relief that David was safe, frustration at her helplessness, still stuck here in Canada, with no control over her own movements.

It felt like hours she sat there, her breathing growing harsh, then finally slowing. For a while there had been nothing but the wracking sobs, her body heaving with them, exhaling the pain, but now the rest of her body made itself known. Sore back and arms, being hunched over for however long she’d been here. Face swollen and hot, probably red and puffy if she cared to look in a mirror. Joints stiff, especially her knees; it would be an ordeal to stand up, once she could.

Having taken stock of her body, Diane took a deep, experimental breath. She felt cautiously better. Cleaner, and empty, but in a good way. The negative emotions she’d been carrying around had left her, or at least their weight had; she was still aware of them but they didn’t take up the emotional space they had done. She was drained.

She was also exhausted. Whatever was happening she should also get back to the Academy; she hadn’t walked far, but they might be looking for her. How humiliating, to run off like that, she thought to herself. Well, there was nothing for it.

Slowly, Diane opened her eyes, head still bent to her knees. It was dark from what she could see. She really had been sitting for a while. Very aware of her neck protesting the movement, she lifted her head, wincing a little at the change in her spine. She turned a little, unsurprised to see the Academy almost across the road. No buses, she thought absently. So we’re not going anytime soon.

Awareness prickled along her neck, and she turned her head the other way. It should have been surprising to see Nick sitting nearby, but it wasn’t. He was leaning against the next tree over, several feet away, legs out in front of him, hands folded in his lap.

Watching her calmly, she thought, with a calm of her own. That was new.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

“Hello,” she replied. She cleared her throat, wincing at the congestion. Not her best start.

“How are you feeling?” Nick asked carefully.

Diane looked at him, an answer rising perfectly in her head, and without evaluating it, she spoke. “Like I could do with a hug.”

Nick blinked at her, but complied, standing up and walking the few paces over. He couldn’t lean again the same tree as she – the trunk was too narrow – but he settled beside her, one arm reaching around her shoulders. She leaned into him immediately, closing her eyes and sighing. It was exactly what she needed, she thought. Her meltdown had cleared a lot of the clutter from her head, and she did feel unusually peaceful now. Like the answers to her problems were much clearer. She was still apprehensive, but there would be no second guessing herself, no playing ‘what if’ or trying to predict someone else’s responses.

This was what she’d been so anxious for. She wasn’t going to waste it now, no matter how difficult it was to find the words. This was as private a space as she could hope to find while they were here; she would just have to make the best of it.

She would just be honest.

“Are you alright?” Nick asked.

“How long have you been here?” Diane asked in return.

“I followed you from the Academy,” Nick admitted. “I was worried about you. I saw you cross the road, and I didn’t know if you’d be safe.”

“Thank you,” Diane said. She reached across, taking his free hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. Nick didn’t stop her, but she felt his sharp inhale and the tension he held in his torso as she moved. It was only after a dozen slow breaths he started to relax again.

“It’s almost over,” Diane said, her eyes drifting over his face.

“It is,” Nick replied. He didn’t add anything more, and Diane could tell he was letting her guide the conversation.

With a deep breath, she sat forward from the tree, still holding his hand in hers. She turned, tucking her legs underneath so she could face Nick. “I remember the screech in,” she said, the words difficult to form. Before Nick could say anything, she added, “I didn’t kiss the fish. I kissed you.”

Nick swallowed, his eyes searching her face for some kind of clue. “You did,” he replied. “What…what made you decide to bring this up now?”

“We’re leaving,” Diane said simply, “and it’s almost over.” Nick nodded, so she pushed on. “Why did you tell me you kissed the fish?”

He swallowed hard, but her blunt honesty must have inspired him, because he took a breath and answered, “If you didn’t remember, I thought you might have only done it because of the beer. And if you regretted it, I thought it might be better if you didn’t know.”

Diane nodded. “It wasn’t because of the beer,” she told him. “Well, I probably wouldn’t have done it without the beer, but I wanted to do it before the beer.”

It was Nick’s turn to nod. His eyes were still wide, taking in the suddenly very frank conversation they were having after so many hours of dancing around each other.

“I’m sorry I lied about it,” Nick said, tentative but sincere.

“It’s fine,” Diane replied. Her fingers tightened over his. “I understand why you did.”

“What now?” Nick asked.

Diane studied his face, considering the right words. His expression was complicated, and the longer she looked, the more sure she was that words were not the answer. For all her anxiety about what exactly to say, in the end, she didn’t need to say anything.

No need to rush, she thought, letting her eyes drift down to his mouth. His lips parted ever so slightly, and Diane felt herself smile slightly. Desire flowed slowly through her body, warming every cell. She leaned in, relishing the anticipation as she held herself to the slow pace. Finally, Nick was whisper close and Diane closed her eyes as they both closed the last few centimetres.

Relief coursed through her, chasing the desire still lighting up her body. It raised her sensitivity and she felt the roughness of his stubble against her lips, sparking new flares of desire with each stroke of his mouth. Her gasps were met by his, the closed circuit of action and reaction pushing both higher until they were breathing heavily into the same space, foreheads pressed together in the darkness.

“I’m glad you followed me here,” Diane told him. “Thank you.”

Nick flushed, smiling a little. “Me too,” he admitted. Diane thought he was hesitating before speaking, but he instead ducked close to kiss her again.

Diane’s heart fluttered and she squeezed his fingers again. They still had potentially hours of waiting before their flight back to Dallas. The idea had pushed her to breaking earlier, but now it didn’t matter. They’d wait together without the unspoken words between them, and when they landed in Dallas…well, that would be another conversation without an easy solution. But butterflies were now fluttering in her stomach as he looked at her, and Diane knew Nick would want to see her again, as she would want to see him. It might not be easy, but after such an emotional rollercoaster here in Gander, Diane knew it would be worthwhile.


End file.
